


Morale

by insominia



Series: Slow Burning Adventures in Mutual Pining between a Railroad Loyalist and a Brotherhood Synth [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Nobody's getting any sleep tonight, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 08:18:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17199920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insominia/pseuds/insominia
Summary: Elder Maxson is a good leader who knows to rely on his subordinates. Clearly they have forgotten to pass on the memo as to why everytime Paladin Danse and Knight Nate come aboard the Prydwen feels like a firework ready to explode.





	Morale

There were a great many people who would say that the Prydwen was a testament to Elder Maxson's vision for the Brotherhood. Elder Maxson disagreed. He considered the mighty airship a testament to the cooperation of those around him and the trust of the officers under his command. He couldn't possibly be everywhere at once, know _everything_ going on in such a huge and sprawling organisation, and so he relied entirely on his senior staff to keep him informed of anything that he needed to know - if he didn't know it there was probably no need for him to do so. That said, he could not help but have his curiosity peaked when an Initiate had practically sprinted onto the command deck with a message for Captain Kells. Kells had frowned in such a way that Maxson had expected an immediate report, but he did not get one. Instead, Kells had moved to the microphone that allowed him to speak to the entire ship.

"This is a personnel announcement," he paused, "Paladin Danse is en route to the Prydwen..." Maxson frowned, wondering why Kells would need to make such an announcement, but Kells continued, "Knight Nate is not accompanying him."

He stepped away from the microphone, Maxson was still none the wiser as to what the situation was. Nor did he know why everyone on the command deck had seemingly let out a breath of relief, as though the whereabouts of Paladin Danse had somehow become everyone's priority.

"Captain Kells," he called, catching the man's eye as he returned to his duties. He did not need to ask the question, he simply raised an eyebrow but Kells understood. They had communicated entire battle plans without saying a word in the past, they had an understanding.

"Morale, sir," Kells said, which ultimately only served to raise more questions in Maxson's mind. Not that he asked any of them, instead he decided he would simply meet Paladin Danse off the approaching vertibird.

Meeting Paladin Danse shed no further light on the situation. The new Knight - Nate, had taken off to investigate something about robots. Danse was - unusually for him - unclear and vague, but if Nate was investigating robotic technology then Maxson knew the Brotherhood would benefit. Whenever Knight Nate disappeared on these solo missions, Quinlan usually found himself buried in research for weeks to come.

So Maxson pushed it all to the back of his mind, where it stayed until eight days later when another announcement echoed around the Prydwen's bulkheads.

" _This is a personnel announcement. Vertibird 092 is en route to the Prydwen with Knight Nate aboard_."

There seemed to be a collective groan across the ship and again Maxson found himself confused. He stepped out to watch the vertibird dock, quietly intrigued by the grumbling that seemed to be coming from every direction, except that is, from Paladin Danse, who was hurrying to the deck with almost indecent haste.

It made sense; the Knight was under the Paladin's sponsorship, it stood to reason that Danse would want to give the Knight a full debrief. The vertibird docked and Maxson could see Danse's fingers drumming impatiently, waiting for the engine to cease so that the occupants could disembark. When Nate finally dropped down, with, as expected, what looked like several weeks worth of research for the scribes, it was hard to determine which of them looked happier. In fact, if Maxson didn't know better, he'd say the Paladin was holding himself back, and though he didn't know the Knight nearly as well he would have sworn the same of him. Eventually, Danse's hand went, almost involuntarily, to Nate's shoulder and remained there, steering him off the deck. The grumbling beside him had continued but Maxson couldn't help but smile, after all, he had wanted to forge strong bonds between the men and women of the Brotherhood and clearly Nate and Danse had become firm friends.

The Elder saw the two of them every time he went into or passed through the mess for the rest of the day. He couldn't be sure either of them had moved, but Nate had apparently forgotten to make his report to his superiors. That said, he had spent hours with Danse who looked as though he were hanging on the Knight's every word so maybe Maxson would see that report...eventually. They remained at the same table, talking animatedly, seemingly unaware of their brothers and sisters around them, unaware of Maxson's eyes upon them or anything else for that matter. Whatever the Knight had found during his investigations must have been of particular interest to the Brotherhood. The report would be one of the most thorough Maxson would ever have received at this rate.

Technically, Elder Maxson wasn't on duty when the sun dimmed in the sky and the night watch took over to keep an eye on the Commonwealth. Despite that, it would be several hours before he would allow himself to retire. Before that, there would be his evening turn about the Prydwen. It was not required of him and it served no practical purpose but it made the Elder feel good to do so. There was something immensely comforting about the faint hum of the engines, the reassuring clink of steel on steel as the power armoured personnel made their rounds. From the upper walkways, Maxson could see the men and women under his command drift towards either the rec area or their beds, something determined entirely by what time their next shift began.

Paladin Danse and Knight Nate were paused on the steps that led to their respective quarters. Or at least, Danse's quarters, Nate would bunk wherever he could find a bed. Maxson wouldn't have spared them a second glance, but he paused a moment, studying them, his brow furrowed in concern. Danse looked like he was in pain and Nate was holding himself so stiffly it looked as though he might break if he moved. But eventually, the two of them moved off, and as neither of them seemed to be limping, Maxson simply shrugged it off. He continued his walk, pausing every now and then as he did, to simply look and observe the Prydwen.

He noticed immediately that the air in the Prydwen had changed. It felt tense...charged almost, as though a radstorm were brewing. The heaviness was oppressive and would remain so until the storm broke and lightning cleansed the air. Looking down, it was clear Maxson wasn't the only one who felt it, there was a distinct sense of restlessness permeating the ship. He was almost afraid to touch the railing to descend, surely he would receive a static shock that not even the Prydwen could withstand, it felt charged enough to explode at the very hint of provocation.

Stepping into the maintenance bar, Maxson half expected to see Ingram and her team hastily rushing about the place, trying to determine what the problem was and move to correct it. But all was quiet, somewhat. There were a handful of engineers making some adjustments to various suits of power armour but nothing more serious than that. Maxson passed them, their words passing over him, meaningless.

' _Thought you'd turned in?'_

_'Yeah, like I'll get any sleep tonight.'_

_'Tell me about it._ '

The Elder passed through the bunk deck, surprised to find it a veritable hub of activity. By now everyone who needed it should at the very least trying to get some sleep. Instead, there were knights doing angry push-ups beside their beds, an initiate tapping away at a terminal with unnecessary force and several soldiers who had rolled themselves tightly into their blankets, in some cases their arms clamped over their heads as though they could escape the palpable undercurrent of resentment and something else...something familiar yet unplaceable.

Knight Nate had at least found some rest. Or at least he was lying down, though again Maxson noted how rigidly he held himself. Surely nobody could rest while maintaining such stringent posture? Perhaps Cade should give him a look over, the doctor was still up, Maxson noted, even though he could distinctly remember him complaining of tiredness earlier that day.

Whatever it was that permeated the Prydwen it did not abate in Maxson's own quarters. He engaged in his usual nighttime routine, he placed his uniform in easy reach in case there was an emergency in the night and finally, he allowed himself to lie down.

Sleep eluded him, however. Even here, far from the gatherings of his men, even with the door firmly closed, there was no rest to be had. Maxson found himself staring up at the ceiling, feeling as though the steel itself was holding its breath.

Something was going to happen.

Something _had to_ happen.

But nothing did.

A soft buzz an eternity later alerted the Prydwen's contingent to the start of the morning watch. Such a sound was usually followed by the unmistakeable bustle of activity, soldiers throwing themselves out of bed to take on whatever the Commonwealth wanted to throw at them. Not this morning. This morning was muted, subdued, as though a fog had crept into the Prydwen overnight and blurred them all. At least it no longer felt like an explosion waiting to happen.

Pulling on his coat even Maxson felt like he could do with another hour in bed. Or maybe another four. Outside his door, Captain Kells greeted him with a salute that seemed more like a tired wave accompanied by a grunt that may have been an attempt at a 'good morning, sir.'

The mess was much the same. Subdued recruits queued for coffee dispensed by a scribe who was glaring daggers at Paladin Danse, sitting as he was, with a steaming cup held to his face as though the aroma itself might be enough to rouse him.

Steel was thin and Danse bunked on the other side of Maxson's room. As a result, the Elder had heard the Paladin unable to settle, eventually passing the time by pacing. Endlessly pacing.

An unmistakable ripple of annoyance spread through the mess and Maxson turned to see a bleary-eyed Knight Nate step into the hall. He had expected him to greet Danse, albeit tiredly, but instead the two stared at each other for a moment before looking away, awkwardly. From the other side of the mess, a sergeant let out a frustrated, incoherent snarl and stalked from the hall.

Nobody spoke.

The silence stretched so taut the Prydwen threatened to implode...again. Maxson slammed his mug down, thoroughly annoyed at not understanding what apparently everyone else did. He opened his mouth to demand answers from the gathered contingent, but his voice died as an announcement from Captain Kells echoed through the ship, seeming louder in the silence.

" _Would all members of the Gladius recon team report to the bridge_."

Given that there was only Danse and Nate from Gladius aboard and everyone knew that, Maxson wondered why Kells announce it so broadly? Regardless the two of them headed for the bridge, their coffees lying forgotten.

Still, nobody spoke until there came another announcement a short time later.

" _This is a personnel announcement. Paladin Danse and Knight Nate of the Gladius recon team have been deployed to investigate the Salem area_." There was a collective murmur of approval but Kells continued, " _all hands, make and mend. Carry on_."

Immediately the atmosphere within the Prydwen changed and everyone seemed to visibly relax, the tension in the air seeping away as though it had never been. Maxson was still frowning, make and mend? Half shifts and light duties? They usually saved such things for special occasions or after a particularly brutal battle, though as the mess gradually cleared of soldiers chatting among themselves, Maxson couldn't deny it had been sorely needed.

Even after the mess had emptied, Maxson remained, mulling over the events of the last twenty-four hours in his mind, trying to pinpoint what exactly had happened. His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Captain Kells. He made himself a coffee, a very strong coffee, in silence.

Maxson rose and was about to ask Kells what was going on when the Captain caught his eye and muttered, "morale, sir," as though that explained anything and everything.

Maxson stared after the retreating Captain and put his mind once more to what was happening aboard his ship.


End file.
